


Polyphobia

by flugantamuso



Category: Good Omens
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flugantamuso/pseuds/flugantamuso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plethora of phobia drabbles, some of which are crossovers. Teaser: No one, Aziraphale thought, shuddering, should have to dream about a pregnant demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polyphobia

**1\. ****Tacophobia in conjunction with daemonophobia, resulting in clinophobia, hypnophobia and oneirophobia**.

No one, Aziraphale thought, shuddering, should have to dream about a pregnant demon. He had decided to try sleeping one time, _one time_, and he’d been assaulted with images of a cranky, irritated, very pregnant Crowley. He lay on the bed, still hearing a hissing voice asking him to rub its feet. Actually, the voice…

He leaped to his feet, but not before Crowley said with a grin,

“So, angel, you _do _sleep.”

“No, no,” said Aziraphale hurriedly, “no sleeping, never ever again.”

“In that case, move over so I can sit down; my feet are killing me.”

Aziraphale whimpered.

**Fear of pregnancy in conjunction with fear of demons (meaning fear of pregnant demons, maybe I should make a word for that, daemotacphobia?) resulting in fear of going to bed, fear of sleep and fear of dreams.**

**2\. ** **Eosophobia **

The bloodthirsty demon approached his prey with deadly, sensuous movement, he snarled, he lunged—

“Crowley,” said Aziraphale in irritation, “if you don’t remove your fangs from my neck this instant I’ll get out the holy water.”

Crowley sulkily stepped back, saying as he did, “You’ve been no fun lately, angel.”

Aziraphale said patiently, “Sticking your teeth in my neck is not _fun_.”

Crowley leered, “I could make it fun.”

Aziraphale raised one eyebrow. “Do you _want _me to raise the shades, Crowley?”

Crowley recoiled in horror, “Angel, how could you?”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Crowley, it was just a movie!”

**Fear of daylight.**

**3\. ** **Hemophobia**

Crowley leapt enthusiastically at another passerbyer and laughed at the woman’s scream.

Aziraphale winced and edged away. He and Crowley both appreciated humans, but it was at times like these that he remembered in what different ways they appreciated them.

Crowley enjoyed seeing fear, especially human fear, especially when the fear was created by the poor, silly creatures’ own artificial delusions.

He should never have agreed to watch that movie with Crowley, it provided far too much fertile ground for the demon’s imagination.

It did not help that Crowley actually _was _capable of draining a body of blood.

Aziraphale shivered.

**Fear of blood.**

**4\. ** **Staurophobia, crossover.**

Behind Aziraphale, Crowley was at it again, tormenting some poor creature with a fake pair of fangs. Aziraphale didn’t know why he bothered, it wasn’t as though the demon didn’t have a perfectly serviceable pair of his own.

He had just decided that it was time to restrain Crowley’s more creative exercises when he heard the demon screech.

Whipping around he saw that the human that Crowley had been pursuing had turned and was advancing on the demon with a cross held before him, chanting something.

It looked like the human wasn’t the one who was going to need saving.

**Fear of crosses or crucifixes. Good Omens/Buffy the Vampire Slayer**

**5\. ** **Anatidaephobia**

Aziraphale met Crowley in the park like they had discussed. Crowley was staring suspiciously at the ducks, so intent that he didn’t hear the angel’s approach.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

“Crowley,” he began cautiously. It was always wise to be cautious when Crowley was acting oddly. Despite centuries of aquaintance, the demon was still eminently capable of surprising him, and not all of Crowley’s surprises were pleasant.

Crowley turned to Aziraphale with a wild look in his eyes. “That duck,” he said, the hiss in his voice very evident, is watching me!”

Aziraphale looked at the ducks.

They looked back.

**Fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you.**

**6\. ** **Medomalaacuphobia**

“Good grief, angel, what _is _that?”

“You told me that I should make more of an effort to fit in.”

“That wasn’t the kind of effort that I was talking about, although now that I think of the possibilities…..still, you’ve got it all wrong.”

_Indignantly, _“Wrong? I’ll have you know that I spent six years with Michelangeo while he was working on a very special project.”

_Dryly, _“And yet you’ve still managed to make a mess of it, why am I not surprised? Here, angel, let me fix it.”

“Crowley, what are you—Crowley! Don’t—“

_Sound of a screech._

**Fear of losing an erection. Not directly related, but oh well.**

**7\. ** **Arcanophobia and Wiccaphobia, crossover**

Aziraphale attributed things he did not understand to innefibility, there was little that bothered him. However, certain things _did _fluster him, and when they did it had become his instinct to turn to Crowley, who would laugh, but also deal with the problem.

So when a very unusual woman entered his shop, Aziraphale called Crowley, who arrived promptly. Walking over to the woman, he lifted his sunglasses, smirking. He stopped smirking when she hexed him.

In the aftermath Aziraphale and Minerva McGonagall looked at each other.

It had never occurred to Aziraphale that a problem might take care of Crowley.

**Fear of magic and fear of witches. Good Omens/Harry Potter**

**8\. ** **Apparent Theophobia, actual Ailurophobia, crossover.**

Aziraphale was still talking with the lion.

Crowley edged away. If the angel had not been there, he would have shot away, as it was, he was at the end of his tether.

The lion shook it’s mane and Crowley shivered in revulsion. He should never have allowed Aziraphale to drag him here.

The angel finally finished his discussion and turned to Crowley. Crowley walked away, hearing the angel catching up.

“I’m sorry about that, my dear, I know that you don’t like being close to Him.”

“It’s not that it’s Him, angel, it’s that it’s a great, bloody cat!”

**Apparent fear of God, actual fear of cats. Good Omens/Narnia**

**9\. ** **Hierophobia, crossover**

Aziraphale had met his fair share of strange humans in his day, but this one might be the strangest yet. He was scarred and missing an eye, but the strangest thing was the way he reacted to Aziraphale. There _were_ humans who could recognize what angels were, but their reactions usually involved falling on their knees.

This one had at first jumped back as if frightened, but now he had a disturbing gleam in his eye.

Aziraphale eyed the stranger warily, perhaps now would be a good time to call Crowley, he always had better luck with the strange ones.

**Fear of holy things. Good Omens/Weiss Kreuz**

**10\. ** **Ophidiophobia, in two parts**

I.

It had taken Aziraphale a long time to get used to Crowley’s human body. It wasn’t that his previous body hadn’t been disconcerting, but there was a comfort to be found in seeing something as it was. A snake was a snake was a demon. A demon as a human, strange mix in the eyes and the soul, was harder to understand, and deal with.

The eyes of an angel were gray as the dawn, understanding as only true compassion could be. Crowley’s eyes were fierce, beautiful and angry, human fire with demonic despair, they burned Aziraphale’s compassion to ash.

II.

Hats sufficed for a while, but eventually they went out of fashion, and in desperation Aziraphale whispered the idea of shaded eyeware into an inventor’s mind. He knew that the demon would take to the idea, but Crowley didn’t always wear the flashy things, didn’t always shield what he was. Sometimes his demonic nature shone through, despite his human trappings.

But he had no idea what he was doing to the angel.

This was the one weakness that Crowley had never discovered, and never would. Aziraphale would look into those unnatural eyes without flinching, no matter what it cost him.

**Fear of snakes and snakelike characteristics.**

**11\. ** **Pyrophobia**

When Crowley entered, Aziraphale was desperately carrying books, moving with alacrity seldom seen in him.

“Help me!”

Crowley stretched lazily.

“What’s the trouble, angel?”

“The shop next over’s on fire.”

“Why not put it out?”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, you’re an angel, do something angelic.”

“_I can’t, _Crowley, look.”

Crowley looked at the hands held out. Usually smooth, they were covered in bruises, shaking.

“I can’t make it go away,” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley reached for the hands, his own trembling slightly.

“This is more important than books, angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were pleading, his tone soft,

“Please?”

Crowley melted.

**Fear of fire.**

**12\. ** **Oranophobia and Nostophobia**

One day, when the weather was bad enough to make god-fearing people curse and one snake-like demon very happy, Aziraphale moved out.

To say it was unexpected was the understatement of the century. Crowley stood and stared, agast, at the moving van into which Aziraphale was putting his books.

“But, where are you putting them?”

“Into storage.”

Crowley relaxed.

“So they’re calling you back, you’ll be gone for a while.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s face had a pinched expression on it.

“Well, what’s wrong with that, don’t you like heaven? After all,” his voice turned bitter, “it’s _your_ home.”

Aziraphale was silent.

**Fear of heaven and fear of returning home.**

**13\. ** **Stigiophobia and Nostophobia**

Crowley was packing with jerky, efficient movements. When Aziraphale walked in he snapped,

“Help or get out, angel, but don’t get in my way.”

Aziraphale said nothing.

Crowley wheeled on him,

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

Aziraphale said nothing.

Crowley moved in, voice dangerous.

“I’ve finally been recalled, my true potential has been realized. I’m going to be made a lord of hell, I’ll be torturing, murdering” he was speaking faster and faster, “finally do what a demon _should_ be doing, rape and pillage, torment and slaughter, I’m finally going…home,” the last word was strangled.

And Aziraphale said nothing.

**Fear of hell and fear of returning home.**

**14\. ** **Ephebiphobia, crossover.**

Much as he admired a healthy love of the printed word, Aziraphale had never trusted the younger generation with books, especially not his books.

“Sixteenth century!”

“But not what we came for, Hermione.”

“Nonsense, I’m sure it’s similar.”

“But it’s in Italian!”

“The clerk can probably translate the headings, I’ll work from there.”

The young woman dragged her reluctant companion over.

“Excuse me, could you translate this?”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow.

“Are you sure you need _that_ translated?”

The girl looked down at Tiny Time for Tots and blushed.

“I must have made a mistake, I’m terribly sorry.”

Aziraphale smiled.

**Fear of teenagers. Good Omens/Harry Potter**


End file.
